


Rising Smoke

by YoungSoon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Blood and Injury, Crimes & Criminals, Developing Relationship, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Light Angst, M/M, NO chracter death, No Smut, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Organized Crime, Partners in Crime, Shooting Guns, Taking care of injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29019375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungSoon/pseuds/YoungSoon
Summary: Family.Honor.Money.Would these be the three pillars of man in a world when one word can lead to a bullet between the eyes?Or perhaps it's something else?Partnership.Trust.Love.Could these be holding the key for life outside of the darkness?
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Rising Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> **DISCLAIMER 1:** All events portrayed are fictional. Any resemblance to real events or people is unintentional.
> 
> **DISCLAIMER 2:** The proper gun and bulletproof vest specifics, as well as wound treatment protocols were researched; however, this is a work of fiction and might contain inaccuracies!

The drenched cobblestones make an awful half wet, half crunchy sound underneath the soles of their shoes as they bolt down the narrow street, cramped in between the traditional one-story homes that host cafes and shops. The rain season is having a short break - the sky still grey and ominous - but at least the downpour has stopped allowing their escape to go a lot smoother. "Stop where you are, you fucking bastards!" a deep voice yells from behind them, a group of 8 men turning the corner from which they just sprinted out. Their sleaves are rolled up, top buttons of their dress shirts open, revealing the snaking dragons and red blooming flowers imprinted into their skin. This is by far the worst crowd to ever mess with, but there isn't much choice in their line of work.

"Like we gon' fucken listen to ya!" Miya Atsumu yells right back, taunting the men and daring to smirk at them over his shoulder. The dog-tags clinking on his chest make his heart beat faster from excitement. His hand is reaching into the left side of his well-tailored black suit, where his [Beretta 92fs](https://cdn11.bigcommerce.com/s-9lyx5pfhw5/images/stencil/1280x1280/products/13922/12472/ber-j92f630__43552.1513113356.png?c=2) is hiding in a deep brown leather holster wrapping around his shoulders. It would take him not more than 3 seconds to grab it, turn and aim at the scrawny looking snake hidden between his beefy bodyguards. He is the reason this deal has gone sour after all. Not that killing him would make it any better, but it would definitely improve Atsumu's mood.

"Don't you dare, Miya, you absolute idiot," Sakusa Kiyoomi utters under his breath next to him. His black mask is over his mouth and nose, hiding his face from curious eyes as much a possible. Atsumu can only admire how he can run this fast in this hot, humid air with that thing on. His identity remaining hidden probably takes priority, though. It probably is the main reason his personal bipedal consciousness will not let him step over the line and stir more trouble than necessary.

"I'm just preparing! I want no troubl', ya know it!" he lets out a laugh and moves his hand away from the grip. The very second the words leave his mouth, a bang echoes on the empty street, a flower pot on the windowsill of a mochi shop right next to Atsumu falling to pieces. Another one hits the wooden pillar of a tea-houses porch next to Sakusa. The third whistles between them and hits something in the distance. Perhaps Atsumu should have taken his shot after all.

"Run faster!" Kiyoomi raises his voice for one of the rare times and picks up the speed, Atsumu right next to him. Running on wet cobblestones with fancy dress shoes whilst wearing suits are probably the least favorable conditions, the men running after them with guns out only adding to the inconvenience. They would have been shot on the spot if they would appear to seal a deal in tracksuits or sneakers, which would not be ideal either. All in all, this whole situation is not in their favor, and Atsumu frowns, as perhaps his rashness has gotten Kiyoomi in trouble far too big.

"Left!" Kiyoomi instructs, and they both take a sharp left, avoiding another set of bullets aimed for them. They enter a grimy side street, just narrow enough for one person to squeeze through at the time. It's not even under a question as they push themselves through the narrow space, their new suits smudged with the grime from the wet wood, shoes digging into the mud to the point it almost reaches the edge of them. The men chasing them can clearly be seen at the end of the side street if it can even be called it, their size not allowing many of them to enter. Yet the smallest three follow right after Atsumu. There isn't enough space to get his gun out without stopping, which limits their opponents but also limits him.

"Right!" Kiyoomi leads them once more as he nears the end of the narrow path. As Atsumu listens and goes right, Kiyoomi himself shifts to the left. In just a second, one of their pursuers emerges, and Kiyoomi's gloved hand lands right on his jaw, knocking the man to the ground. Atsumu reacts immediately, his leg moving up, kicking up a chunk of mud, and hits the second man in the chest while his hand goes past the man's head, his body bending in half from pain, and lands right on the third man's nose. The first shock rushing through the three men allows Atsumu and Kiyoomi to take a step back and assess their surroundings.

An inner yard for the surrounding shops with nothing more but mud for the footing. A couple of the buildings have wooden pillars holding up tile roofs: no trees, no stairways, no open doors. Two large garbage bins on wheels stand few meters away to the only other exit from the space, which will probably soon be blocked by those who didn't follow them directly. Slim chances on getting out without a scratch but better than just aimlessly running through the streets and getting someone else hurt in the process. They were lucky enough the rainy season and the late afternoon hours had kept the streets empty.

"Ya ain't gon' let me shoot yet, huh?" Atsumu looks at the man next to him - the fists clad in black leather gloves clenched and ready to strike, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at the men before them, regaining their senses. It would be best if Sakusa stayed out of it, but Atsumu can't stop him, even if it is his job in a way.

"No. That's our last resource," he answers as calmly as the situation allows him. The way he always manages to keep calm is truly admirable, but knowing the household he came from, staying calm is the only way to survive. According to this logic and his previous job, Atsumu should be a lot calmer too, but there is a reason why it didn't work out.

"Rogger," the dirty-blond smirks and prepares his fists. Admittedly, he often trusts his legs and arms more than the gun he loves so much, but a deep-down feeling tells him that, perhaps, this time, they should go with his and not Sakusa's plan. Something ominous is in the damp summer air, and he can't pinpoint it exactly, but he has sensed this impending doom before.

The three men seem to be back to their senses, swaying a little on the muddy surface, their grey suits and white shirts already in shambles. No one could describe them as happy at this point - split lip, bleeding nose, and a possibly cracked rib are not the conditions that bring joy. They hiss and curse under their breath, spitting blood from their mouths, Kiyoomi silently gagging at the unsightly behavior. For Atsumu's relief, none of them reach for their guns just like he hasn't, and he admittedly finds it quite stupid from both sides. Honor code or something of that sort, Kiyoomi once told him about it. Funny how shooting at someone from the back is okay in that codex - as if he is the one to complain about shooting someone defenseless.

One of them reaches to the back of his belt, bringing some tension to the air, but instead of a gun, he pulls out an expandable metal baton, the clicking sound of it reaching its full-length ringing in the air. Another one from the trio pulls out a knife while the third - the one Atsumu kicked in the chest - has no weapon on him. With a ridiculously loud and cliche yell, they launch forward, not really deligating any targets, yet throwing themselves at whoever got them before. The knife-wielder goes for Kiyoomi while the other two charge at Atsumu.

"More fun for me," the blond grins and swiftly dodges the first swing from the baton, his fist coming in contact with the man's solar plexus and sending him a few steps back. The two attacking him have obviously seen plenty of movies and have launched forward together not to make the same mistakes, but it's unsuccessful. Atsumu's fist halts the first one, his foot sends back the second one, hitting him in the exact same spot he kicked him before. The split second of confusion is all Atsumu needs to grab the ahold of the hand holding the baton and twisting it with enough strength and force to throw the man's shoulder out of place. With a loud wail, he falls to the ground, the crunching sound of the shoulder moving unnaturally audible enough, Atsumu pressing him into the mud with his knee between the man's shoulder blades.

Meanwhile, his other attacker has picked up a plank from somewhere in the yard and swings the heavy wooden object too close to Atsumu's face for comfort. The blond jumps to his feet and away from the man in the mud. It seems like the two kicks he dedicated to his current 'problem' have made him quite angry as he almost roars. He launches at Atsumu with full force, swinging so ferociously that the blond doesn't have the time to stop them. Or rather, he doesn't even dare to stop the swings, as they have enough strength to crack a bone. For now, he can just avoid and wait for an opening to launch a counterattack.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees Kiyoomi doing the same, the man with the knife almost rabbit in his movements, swinging the blade so much he could potentially hurt himself. The third one is also rising from the ground, the adrenaline from the pain pushing him forward. He obviously is seeing red and charges at whoever is closest to him, which now is Kiyoomi. The latter seems to be tired of the constant defense role, even though he isn't big on fighting, and grabs hold of the knife going in his direction with one hand, stopping its wielder's other hand as well. In a well-practiced motion, he moves his neck and shoulders back to gain enough momentum and to headbutt the man's nose straight on. The gargling grunt of pain distracts the other attacker enough for Kiyoomi to grab the knife and, with one swift move, jab into the man's knee.

It is enough of a commotion for Atsumu to finally stop the plank as it nears his head once more. He uses it almost like a spear and pushes the man holding it to the other side of the yard, ramming him into a wall and the plank deeply into his side, causing him to cough and collapse on the floor. "Less fun than I thought it'd be," he breathes out and looks at Kiyoomi, who is inspecting his gloves for any tears or visible dirt. "Let's get out of here," he calls out, his companion looking up at him, the always messy black curls even messier than before and falling into his eyes. Which fool sent such a pretty boy into the slimy underworld of Osaka? Right. His ancestors did.

The second they take their first step to the open exit, voices at the end of it stops them. The remaining four chasing them are soon running down the side-street, cursing out loud and their guns out and ready. "Shit," is all Kiyoomi can murmur before bullets start whistling in around the yard. Scrambling over the slippery surface, they both manage to get behind the garbage containers, the sound of bullets hitting the metal loud and disorienting.

It's just handguns, and it's easy to count the rounds used; automatics would be more difficult, Atsumu thinks to himself, giving each bullet hitting the garbage containers a number. "Can we shoot now?" Atsumu almost shakes in anticipation, his hand on the grip already. The number in his head nearing the estimated 36.

"Do you need to ask?" Kiyoomi scoffs and reaches in his own jacket, retrieving his [Beretta 92FS Inox](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2130/5727/products/s38305_800x.jpg?v=1574964417), taking the safety off, and loading the chamber. "No kills. Just slow them down, Miya, " he emphasizes and rolls his eyes at Atsumu's pout. "Tell me when," he continues ignoring the pouty expression and grasps the grip with both hands.

" 'Aight, young boss," Atsumu snickers before raising three of his fingers for the countdown. As he folds the final finger down, they both move out in sync. Kiyoomi stands up enough so his arms could go over the container while Atsumu, still crouching, takes a step to the side, aiming lower. For few seconds, they take the upper hand until their magazines are empty, and they have to hide again to reload; their opponents now reloaded and ready to make the container into a grater.

"I can go two more times," Atsumu says as he changes the magazines in his gun. "What 'bout ya?"

"One," half of Kiyoomi's face can't be seen, but it is clear he is upset or even angry at himself for not bringing more ammunition. But no one can blame him. They were simply here to deliver a new batch of fake paperwork that their group specialized in and to receive the payment—just a quick delivery deal. No one could predict that the scrawny little bastard with the most cliche and obnoxious gold chain around his neck would find faults with everything - from birth certificates to driver's license, especially if there were no issues. The refusal to pay for 'garbage merchandise' and 'keeping it as compensation' perhaps sent Atumu's fist right in his face, breaking the code for handling deals. One thing led to another, and here they are now.

The rain begins to pour again with a distant roar of thunder, the already muddy floor reminding of slime tub rather than a yard. The echoing gunfires fall in odd harmony, with raindrops hitting the tile roofs and the ground. The visibility is poor as well, but neither of the sides is ready to give up and offer their life on a platter. "Brings back memories," Atsumu smirks and tucks his tags under his shirt so that they wouldn't give out his location.

"Cover me, but don't use everything up," the blond instructs so fast Kiyoomi has just a second to react. Still, in the 4 months, they have been working together, they have found their rhythm, which makes it surprisingly easy to communicate and work even if both of them are so different. A son of an ex-mobster and a former war assassin - what a strange pair they were. But somehow, their gears fit together just right.

As Kiyoomi unloads half of the ammunition from above, Atsumu moves from their garbage bin shield to the wooden pillars, swiftly crossing the distance without their opponents noticing. From there, he can aim much better, the angle just right, and gets two of the men in their hands and shoulder, respectively. However, he also becomes an easier target, bullets hitting the pillar he is behind and the wooden walls on his left. If only he could be on the roof with his [MRAD](https://hips.hearstapps.com/hmg-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/images/beauty-mrad-1605559416.jpg?crop=0.891xw:0.594xh;0.0442xw,0.227xh&resize=640:*). Oh, how much fun would it be! But his beauty is safely tucked away under his bed, unused for quite a while, so he has to make ends meet with what he has. He empties the second round and does his best to hide behind the pillars and reload for the third.

"Save ya bullets!" he yells out, not even looking at Kiyoomi, who is indeed about to get up and provide a cover once more. "Trust me! Amma be right there!" he adds. As there is a pause in the rain of bullets - be it a short one, probably, for reloading - and he jumps up to make his way back to Kiyoomi, but the silence is not due to reloading. One of the remaining two men, hiding behind pillars just like Atsumu, has pulled out an automatic rifle Atsumu can't recognize instantly, not even when the bullets hit him directly. He should have known this could happen; it isn't his first time on a battlefield of any size. Perhaps returning to Kiyoomi's side made him too eager.

All Kiyoomi can do is watch in utter shock as the sudden faster firearm unloads into his partner's chest. Everything seems to happen in slow motion. As the bullets hit Miya, his body twitching from the impact, his gun falls from his hands and lands into the mud next to him. His body hits the ground seemingly lifelessly as the last bullets from the rifle whistle through the rain. "Atsumu..." he feels the name of the blond falling from his lips. His whole being begins shaking, a rage he has never felt before circulating in his veins, breathing getting caught in his lungs to the point he begins gasping for air.

"Fucking... BASTARDS!" he yells out, tearing his mask off his face, the need for air and the bloodlust pushing him forward. His identity means shit at this moment as he launches forward from his hideout. The mud makes the sliding much easier, and he reaches Atsumu in a second. He grabs his discarded gun and aims both of the guns at the two men who are aiming back at him. He isn't a sniper like Atsumu, the rain does not help his situation one bit, but he just needs to act at this point. He aims to the best of his ability, his goal to cause as much harm as possible, and lets his fingers press the triggers as many times as he can, unloading every last bullet in his possession. And as the sound of gunfire disappears, he realizes the mistake of his aim. But he can deal with it later.

"Atsumu!" he turns to the man on the ground and scans his entire body. There is a scratch on his cheek, the rain making the blood from it run far more dramatically than necessary. A bullet has grazed his shoulder in a nasty way, and there is definitely one in his right thigh, but the white shirt on his chest doesn't have a speckle of blood on it. Kiyoomi kneels in the mud, and, all rational thinking leaving his mind, he rips the shirt open. The biggest sigh of relief comes from him as the opened shirt reveals a bulletproof vest, around ten or so bullets stopped by it. Atsumu is probably bruised all over, but he's alive.

"Not the way I wanted to hear ya say ma name properly," Atsumu suddenly speaks, his eyes opening slowly, and he instantly hisses and groans. "Fuck... this hurts," he declares, and the more conscious he becomes, the more pain shows on his face. "Fuck..." he curses, and his breathing is getting heavier, his torso probably in as much pain as his leg and shoulder. It would have almost been better for him to stay unconscious.

"We have to go," Kiyoomi seems to finally snap out of his own daze, relief being his main emotion at the moment, winning over the pulsating anxiety at the back of his head as he has probably made this situation worse than it already is. He scrambles to get his gun into his holster and secures Atsumu's behind his belt at the back so his jacket would hide it. "Do you think you can walk?" and helps heavy breathing blond to sit up. "We probably need to secure that first," he talks more to himself, tearing the black-tie from his neck in one move. "Oi, Miya..." he reaches for the injured leg, but the man still doesn't react, falling completely silent and making Kiyoomi turn to him.

Atsumu's eyes are wide open, mouth parted, chest rising rapidly, water streaming over his features, carrying the blood from the cut in his cheek down his neck to his collar. He is probably going into shock, which is the last thing they both need while still here. "Atsumu!" Kiyoomi calls out again and takes Atsumu's chin in his hand, forcing the man to look at him. "Can you walk? We need to go," he speaks while directly looking at the blond. The latter nods, seemingly more connected to the reality now.

To the best of his ability, Kiyoomi secures the wound on Atsumu's leg, the improvised tourniquet absolute crap, but better than nothing. It's temporary, and it needs proper care as soon as possible. Carefully, he helps Atsumu get on his feet and lets the man rest against his shoulder for support, his arm wrapping around the blond's waist. Each step obviously causes pain for the blond, and he moves forward with clenched teeth, but it's not like they can flag down a cab here, or any cab would pick the two of them up. At this moment, they are like two rats barely escaping a sinking ship during a storm in shark-filled waters- nowhere is safe. They slowly walk out of the yard and just continue walking away from it. As they turn another corner, they can hear voices heading to the yard, the downpour finally easing down, the backup of their opposing side arriving.

"They will come after us," Kiyoomi speaks as they keep moving in an unknown direction. "I killed two of them. It is almost impossible they are alive. Others might have seen my face too," he adds, remembering far too clearly how his bullets hit one of the men in the neck and the other in the head.

"So we can't call 'nyone for now," Atsumu breathes out and grimaces. "Just what we need," he lets out a breathy laugh and squeezes Kiyoomi's shoulder signaling a stop. "Let me think for a sec," his breathing is still irregular, and it looks like he could faint any second. He's moving forward on sheer willpower at this point, and it is no less but admirable.

"My apartment is a few blocks from here. Right on the out of this district. We can get there fast," he suggests, and Kiyoomi's first instinct is to object.

"We can't. If they tail us or just find out who we are, they will go there. Your life outside all of this will be in jeopardy," Kiyoomi objects, but Atsumu just shakes his head.

"The main base is too far away. All hideouts are probably sniffed out by those muts. That's all we got," he sounds surprisingly rational, and Kiyoomi can't object. He lets most of Atsumu's weight rest on him as they continue dragging through the streets of the historic district, a faint trail of blood remaining behind them until the next merciless downpour washes it away.

Getting into the apartment is the most difficult part of their journey. Too many people are walking near the building, too many eyes could turn to them as they near it. Kiyoomi's awful acting of them being drunk probably doesn't fool too many passersby, but it's obnoxious enough to clear their path. Even as they successfully manage to get in, the elevator is out of the question due to the CCTV in it - anyone watching it would have far too many questions. So the climb to the 5th floor is physically excruciating for Atsumu and emotionally devastating for Kiyoomi, as he sees his partner in such indescribable pain. When the Miya's apartment door falls shut and is swiftly locked, it finally feels like they are making any sort of progress.

They manage to get off the muddy and soaked shoes at the door and walk into the main space, wet socks leaving imprints on the floor, water dripping from their clothes, and the trail of blood following them. At the moment, Kiyoomi doesn't even care about where everything is and how things look as his priorities lay elsewhere. With what seemingly seems to be the last strength in his legs, Atsumu shows the way to the bathroom, the door of the traditionally white-tiled room falling open with a loud bang. The toilet seat falls shut with the same kind of noise, and the blond finally can sit down.

There is a long minute of silence, Atsumu closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the tile wall, breathing slowly and deeply, before he speaks. "There is a special medkit in the wardrobe of my bedroom," he breathes out, and Kiyoomi doesn't even ask where the said room is, rushing out immediately. Luckily he opens the right door on the first try.

He rummages through the only piece of furniture that matches that of a wardrobe until an unmistakable military med-kit catches his eyes - a large green camo bag with a cross on it. With few large steps, he is back in the bathroom, where Atsumu has already begun undressing. The wet jacket and shirt are on the floor, the bulletproof vest that saved his life joining them, his tags clinking as they now rest on his chest. His entire torso, just like Kiyoomi thought, is covered in deep red, round bruises from the impact points of the bullets. Some are deeper and oozing a bit of blood, while others are already coloring green and purple. The gash on his shoulder has blood slowly seeping over his chest, back, and arm, but it doesn't look too serious, unlike the hole in his thigh. The pant-leg is stuck to his thigh, soaked from the wound and the rain, so it is a struggle to get it off without irritating the wound even more.

"First, we wash all the dirt and grime off and then treat the wounds, right?" Kiyoomi asks, staring at the heavy breathing blond, who manages to stand up on his own. Even as Atsumu rests his hand on the wall to keep balance, Kiyoomi is right next to him with his arms out to catch him.

"It ain't recommended, but here's mud 'n' dust everywhere, but no soap should be fine. We can dig the bullet out after too, it ain't that deep... ain't bleeding that much 'nymore too," his thoughts trails off, and he almost loses his balance, but Kiyoomi steadies him by the shoulders. "Can ya stick around, partner? Fallin' and splittin' my head open would add an extra level of sucking to this," he tries to smile, but all of his expressions come out pained, void of their usual sparkle.

"Sure," Kiyoomi nods and helps Atsumu to the shower, turning away as his partner disregards the last pieces of clothing and steps under the steady stream of water, a pained groan very audible. Kiyoomi's chest tightens at the sound or, more so, at the sudden feeling of being completely useless. He pulls off his gloves and throws them in the forming pile of clothes on the floor. His wet jacket and soaked shirt join - the two guns finding a temporary place on the washing machine by the door. He himself has acquired a few bruises, the over-mirror light making them stand out, but that's literally nothing in comparison.

Sakusa's eyes trail to the scaly beast wrapping around his left biceps with it's terrifying, whiskered, and horned head sitting on his chest. This will make things even more difficult - his face out there, two lives on his name now. He can be sure his own family will search for him - the disgraceful son - to set things right. He gets the hair tie from his pants' back pocket and gets his hair out of his face in a silly-looking tail sitting on the top of his head. He proceeds to scrub his hands and arms up to the elbow in the sink, doing the same to his face and neck. He needs a shower to the point of feeling physically sick with the wet, sticky clothes still on him and the mud particles in his hair and stuck to his flesh through the fabric. But not now. It's low on the list of priorities.

As he wipes his face, the shower turns off, and a dripping wet Atsumu steps out of the shower. Light red flows from his shoulder, the water making it quite dramatic. His leg is shaking; there, the dramatic red is more prominent. The blond's hands are trembling as he reaches for a towel, and Kiyoomi makes an instant decision. He takes the towel he still has in his hands and pats off the excess water from his partner's back and neck, helping to secure the larger towel in the blond's hands around his waist. "It can be messy, so I think we should stay here," he notes as both of them begin to move, and Atsumu nods.

The blond sits down where he first did when walking in. "The kit has clean cloth and bandages, petroleum jelly, clotting agents, tweezers - everything for an on-scene operation. Took it with me as a souvenir," Atsumu explains, sounding too serious to match his character, while Kiyoomi looks through the content of the kit. His nerves seem to calm down, the sterile packaging of everything bringing him some sort of ease. Sakusa is obviously getting too much in his head regardless. Such war-like circumstances, not his forte, but he can't stop it. He jumps to his feet and scrubs his hands one more time, to the point they almost turn red. The towel becomes the base of his work table - a sterile cloth on top of it, the tweezers, bandages, and everything else placed on top of to avoid any incrimination. He puts on one of the gloves that are in the kit, and with one deep breath, he starts.

His admiration for the blood grows with every second as Atsumu instructs him on how to remove the bullet. He doesn't understand why it's good that it's a military-grade bullet, but he trusts his former-soldier partner. 'Soldier' doesn't really cover Atsumu's field of expertise, nor does the military intelligence. He once described himself as 'the killer with a beauty,' the beauty being his rifle. He never shies away from a chance to share his stories either, but it suddenly feels like Kiyoomi knows virtually nothing about him.

The instructions the blond provides are simple and straight to the point - how-to dig out the bullet, how-to rinse the wound with the sterile water provided, how to use a clotting agent and seal the wound, how to properly clean around it, and bandage it. The image of Atsumu's face biting down on a belt and the gut-turning sound that left him when the bullet was removed will not leave Kiyoomi for a very long time. Neither will the very sight of the blood-covered bullet in front of his eyes before he tossed it in the trash.

"Good," he hears from Atsumu at one point, his hand landing on Kiyoomi's bare shoulder. It's heavy and hot right above one of the loops the dragon living in Kiyoomi's skin is forming, giving a light squeeze to his shoulder. "Ya did good. Now the shoulder."

It is easier to deal with the gash on the shoulder, the wrapping up being a tad more tricky, the bandages secured around Atsumu's chest as well, but with the red-purple-green bruises all over him, it is not such a bad thing. The always present tags rest on the white bandages, and Atsumu exhales slowly when Kiyoomi takes a step back from his patient, the metal clinking slightly. No one times the amateur medical treatment, but it must have been at least half an hour or more. "Two more things, and then I will probably pass out," Atsumu laughs and stands up, shaking at every step he takes, holding his towel around him with his good hand. Kiyoomi is half a step behind him, throwing his gloves on the absolutely disgusting piled of red-stained pieces of cloth on the bathroom floor.

Atsumu stumbles to his room and leans down, pulling out a large black case from under his bed. "Set the beauty up next to the living room window. That one has a good view of the street," Kiyoomi can easily assume what's in the case. "One final thing is the antibiotics and painkillers in the kitchen cabinet. And then I will finally leave you alone..."

"Don't say it like that!" Kiyoomi lashes back at the blond, perhaps too loudly and harshly with no obvious trigger, making the room fall in awkward silence for a second. "I'll be right back," he almost barks and quickly leaves the room, taking the case with him. It was probably the most unnecessary response he could have given, but just a couple of hours ago, even if for a few minutes, he was sure that Atsumu has indeed left him alone - right in front of his eyes and forever. "Idiot," he addresses himself this time and looks through the cupboards of the classically set kitchen, finding the said medicine. With a glass of water, he returns to the bedroom, where Atsumu somehow has gotten his underwear on and is settling on the bed with a long, painful exhale.

"Thanks," the first not pain-filled smile appears on the blond's face as he takes the pills and has barely any water to wash them down. "If ya'd know how hard it is to keep awake," he laughs, "so don't panic when I knock out for a bit. Set the rifle up, call the boss, ya can use whatever need from the apartment too," he throws a quick thumbs up "Ya done well, young boss," the blond grins and Kiyoomi is tempted to throw the remaining water at him. Even in this disheveled state, he dares to poke fun at Kiyoomi.

"Sleep," Kiyoomi replies dryly and leaves the room. Almost as if burning, the ominous beast engraved in his skin tingles, and Kiyoomi knows for a fact the real shit is just starting.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BeanSensei)  
> ______
> 
> **Other SakuAtsu:** [Paywall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28813068); [Electrifying](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28934253)
> 
> ______
> 
> HELLO!
> 
> My google search history is now full of guns, wound treatment, military references, and other questionable things! My FBI agent is probably having a field day with this!
> 
> Anyway, this was supposed to be a long one-shot, but I didn't like the "chunky" flow of it, so I made the probably terrible decision to make this a chaptered work. Hopefully, no more than 3 - 4 chapters in total.   
> I will do my best to update once a week, but I can't promise a thing!
> 
> Do let me know how you like this in the comments!


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